


A Chrismukka Tale

by failureisawinchester



Category: Glee
Genre: Chrismukkah, F/F, M/M, fest fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failureisawinchester/pseuds/failureisawinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt screams in fright, and a hand reaches around to clamp over his mouth. Passerbys quickly glance his way, but no one comes to his aid. Parents simply hustle their children forward and away from the pair. Kurt opens his mouth in an attempt to bite his attacker, but is stopped by a lick to his neck that sends shivers down his back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chrismukka Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This was written last year for the puckurt lj's Chrismukkah fest as a giftfic for freiheit_0308 :)

"What the fuck?!" Puck screams as he stares at his reflection in the ornamented mirrors lining the bathroom wall, and runs his hand disbelievingly through his thick head of curls. Curls that an hour ago had sure as fuck not been fucking purple! Puck feels like crying. He knows jack shit about matching colours to your skin tone and shit, but even he knows purple is not his fucking colour. It clashes horribly with his tanned skin…and he looks like some kind of freak. Puck is a sex shark, he's not supposed to look like a fucking freak! He’s supposed to look like a badass smoking hot sex shark, damn it.

Puck growls and marches back into the shower and opens the purple ‘Touch of silver’ shampoo bottle. Where there should be a clear purple colour, there’s a suspicious looking mahogany type liquid. Puck leans his head down to sniff the contents and is surprised there's not a trace of that awful peroxide smell that hair dyes usually have. Instead the bottle smells like the shampoo that should have been in it, which means it must have some shampoo mixed in. That was why Puck hadn't noticed the difference in the liquids when he'd been vigorously applying it to his previously dark brown hair. This was clearly cleverly planned and stinks of sabotage.

Puck knows exactly who is behind this foul play and he is out for blood. He storms away from the lavish white tiled bathroom and through his three-bed penthouse apartment. It takes him ten minutes of furious searching to finally figure out the culprit is long gone. Clever bitch probably knew Puck wouldn't be too pleased with his new look, so had hightailed it as soon as Puck had stepped into the shower. No wonder the minx had turned down an obvious invitation to a session of steamy shower sex. Puck should have known right then that his devious lover had something up his sleeves. To this day, no one had ever turned down shower sex with Puck – especially not his slutty and wanton lover of twelve months.

Puck curses the little minx under his breath and sinks onto the white leather sofa that dominates their classy and spacious living room. He's stark naked and couldn’t care less. The heating is turned up super high, because even though the cost of heating is ridiculously pricey, the temper on his little lover when cold is not a pretty sight. Besides, with their more than generous salaries they can more than afford it.

He hangs his head in his hand and mulls over a way to pay the little bitch back for his little prank. He's so focused on revenge that he fails to notice the sound of the lock turning and the soft footsteps approaching the room he's in. He doesn't even notice the other occupant until a loud scream pierces his eardrums. Puck looks up and is surprised to see his sixteen year old daughter staring at him, horrified and screaming her head off.

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Oh God! What the hell?! Why are you naked??!!"

"Cuz I just got out the shower, duh. Dude, chill those bastards next door are gonna start banging the walls again."

“Forget the neighbours!! This is just gross!! Why are you just sitting there?!! Go put some clothes on; you’re mentally scarring me for life here!”

Puck gives his daughter a disbelieving look, the Puckasaurus is built like a Greek god, there’s nothing mentally scaring about his fine form. Hell, he‘s even hotter than Adonis himself, and way more sexy than that Michelangelo dude’s David.

“Oh, for God’s sake. GO PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!” When her father fails to move Beth takes drastic action and begins hitting him over the head with her dainty, but heavier than a ton of rocks glittery purse.

“Ouch, dude chill. Ease up on the violence. I’m going, I’m going. PMS, huh?” Puck gets to his feet slowly and snickers when his daughter turns to face the other direction, hands firmly over her eyes. His last jibe is met with a back kick that ends mere inches away from his precious jewels. “Dude, seriously no violence! Those Taekwondo classes were a frigging mistake.”

“Really? I thought it was your idea?”

“Hell no, you’re already violent and a danger to men everywhere as it is. You don’t need lessons. It was Kurt’s idea.”

“Daddy’s?”

“Yea, dude was worried his little princess would get jumped at school or on her way home or some shit like that. You really have the poor sucker fooled. Dude thinks the sun shines out your ass and you’re some perfect angelic being.”

“I’m not fooling anyone. Daddy just sees the best in me. You should try it sometime.”

Puck just shakes his head at the pride in her voice; his daughter knows she has his lover firmly wrapped around her little finger and loves exploiting it. Puck isn’t concerned though, he’s happy his daughter and Kurt have such a solid relationship. Things hadn’t always been this good between them.

When Puck and Kurt first started dating all those months ago, Puck had been worried as fuck about how Kurt would react to his extra ‘baggage’. Most young guys didn’t dig single parents because it meant they’d have to shoulder extra responsibilities, and nothing killed romance quite like a young teenager needing attention almost twenty-four hours a day.

Despite all Puck’s worries, however, Kurt had been different. When Puck had finally grown a pair and revealed to Kurt the reason why he always had to ditch their dates early, wasn’t because he was some kind of prude who waited like four months to put out, or was so religious he didn’t believe in sex before marriage or had another secret lover stashed somewhere, but was because of a five feet tall, spoilt blond princess. Kurt had been happy. Like ridiculously happy. He’d smiled so wide and cried so hard; Puck had no idea what to do with him. Puck supposed Kurt had honestly believed that Puck had been cheating on him, and when he’d finally learnt the truth he’d been so overcome with relief.

Puck had been kinda pissed at Kurt for even doubting his faithfulness, Puck may have been a playa in his younger days, but he’d grown up. Grown up and found true love. He’d found The One. Mr Right. Yea, Puck was a romantic sap at heart, but he’d go to his grave denying that fact. Point was, Puck had found Kurt, and he would never ever do anything to hurt Kurt or damage their relationship if he could help it. He may not be the smartest tool in the shed, but even he knew if Kurt ever left him, he’d die of a broken heart. There was no living without his petite hot tempered lover now.

Puck had ignored for a Kurt day after that, which did piss Kurt off, because if anyone had a right to be angry, it was the person who Puck had been deceiving for several months. (How the hell did someone even hide a kid, a fricking kid, anyways? Kurt considered himself lucky there hadn’t been a wife stashed somewhere with said kid, and there was just the ex-wife he occasionally worked with.) Sex had been with-held for a week, and after months of cold showers, and lonely nights spent with his right hand, a very blue balled Puck had grovelled like no self-proclaimed badass ever should. One brand-name coffee machine later, Puck, Kurt and Beth were having ‘family’ outings, and Puck had never been so satisfied.

The only downer had been Beth, who was so not happy about sharing her ‘big daddy’ with some unknown man with hair lovelier than hers. Not to mention a better wardrobe and a fashion sense to die for. Some would call it jealousy, but Beth called it an intense dislike, and Puck, well he called it plain and simple cock-blocking. A depressed and rejected Kurt was not a Kurt who put out.

Puck did everything he could to build bridges, treated them to spa day outings, theatre shows, and movie theatre tickets! He even accompanied them on shopping trips to fetch all their bags, but nothing seemed to work. At least that was what Puck had been led to believe, turned out the two manipulative bitches were in cahoots and were getting a kick out of exploiting the most important man in their life. They learnt their lesson after some good old fashion silent treatment. That week long pampering the two had bestowed upon him in hopes of getting forgiveness had been the happiest of his life, the things Kurt had been willing to do just to get Puck to stop ignoring him had pretty much nearly killed Puck.

“Fuck!” Puck’s fantasies involving a Kurt on his knees, pretty baby blues turned puppy dog eyes, begging for forgiveness, while he sucked-

“Ouch! Fuck’s sake ease up on the kicking, dude!” Puck rubs tenderly at his poor thighs; sure they‘re not easily breakable and are more manly looking than Kurt’s, but they can feel pain all the same.

“I’d stop the kicking, if would kindly stop having disgusting fantasies about my darling daddy and went to put some fucking clothes on.” The last part is shrieked out so loud; it gives the fuckers next door an opportunity to practice their drumming skills, on the surprisingly thin walls separating the two apartments. Next year Puck is buying his babies a house.

“Hey, where is daddy? …Did you change your hair?”

**Elsewhere**

Kurt drops onto to the bar stool, and allows his head to drop with a heavy thud onto the bar.

"Ladyface, if you're not going to order get the fuck out. This ain't no watering hole for sellouts with no soul."

Kurt lifts his head briefly to glare at the bartender, before returning to his former position.

"Kurtina, seriously what the fuck is wrong with you? Puck decided to stop taking your microscopic dick up his ass? That dildo Brit and I bought him for his bday giving him more satisfaction? Coz if that's the case we can always buy you one of those creepy ass sexdoll things that look remarkably like your bros for Christmas. And maybe get you those Wicked tickets you've been harping on about sometime next year." The Latina woman leans over the bar to pinch at porcelain skin.

"Ouch, Satan. What is wrong with you?" Kurt pulls back before sharp as knives three inch red nails can do more damage to his delicate skin.

Santana 'Satan' Lopez, looks thoughtful. "They really do make them more realistic these days."

"Oh, how very amusing. You should consider stand-up, your gift is clearly wasted in this none too glamorous establishment." Kurt mumbles sarcastically.

“Pretty boy, dish. NOW!"

"Alright. Fine. If you must know, I've just done something incredibly stupid."

"No, shit. What'd you do? Wash one of your ‘dry clean only scarves’ by accident?"

"Is that how superficial and witless you honestly believe I am? No, don't answer that. I dyed Noah's hair." The last bit was so rushed the Latina woman only catches half of it.

"Wait, what the fuck? You mean, Mister ‘I Love My Hair More than My Own Life’ let you to dye his precious fricking hair?"

"Well, I wouldn't say he...Where are you going?" Kurt watches as Santana pulls her apron off and begins collecting her stuff together from the shelf below the bar.

"Going home, duh. The apocalypse is upon us. Those crazy fucks were right about 2012 after all. I’m heading home to my baby. Maybe we get a few hours of sexing in before the stars start falling and all that shit.”

“Santana Lopez!” Kurt hisses out her full name, and a quick look in his direction stops her in her tracks. Kurt looks close to tears. He’s looking for advice and help because he genuinely believes Puck will dump him over whatever it is he’s done.

“Alright, baby cakes. Aunty Tana is here for you. What the fuck did you do and why. Don’t skip anything out.” She leans over the bar again, and runs a hand through his hair, ignoring the hand that reaches out to bat her away.

“Well……

**Flashback**

20 hours earlier

Kurt shrugs on his coat and thanks the doorman for letting him out. It’s bitterly cold outside, even underneath his five layers he still feels as if his blood is slowly turning to ice. He rubs his arms against his sides in hopes of warming himself a little, and glances at his watch, 9.30 p.m. His shoot ended earlier than he had expected, but it has still finished far too late.

The sky is pitch black and it might as well be midnight. Kurt doesn’t mind, the lights of New York are burning brightly, and the streets are still thrumming with people, all leaving work and heading for home. He debates on whether to call a cab or walk home. It’s only couple blocks away, half an hours walk or so. He settles on walking, the exercise will do him good. He loves walking around New York when all the bustle from the daylight hours has vanished. The city looks beautiful and calm at night. Almost peaceful.

Of course, it being so close to Christmas, there’s not that much peace on the streets. The streets are still crowded with families doing last minute shopping and carols being blasted into the night from shops promoting the Christmas spirit. Kurt watches couples as they cling to each other in hopes of not being separated by families of four or more, and wishes his lover were there with him. A moonlight walk under lights with the love of his life would have been so perfect and romantic. Puck is probably home by now, that, or he’s still at work goofing off with his band mates. Beth, their precious little girl is probably curled up with a mug of hot chocolate and watching a Christmas classic. 

At the thought of his honorary daughter at home on her own, his footsteps quicken, and he reaches for his iPhone. The sooner he gets home to her the better. He steps to the side to allow the crowds to pass him, and calls up his contact list. Before he can even make the call, however, a large form grips him from behind and a gruff male voice hisses quietly into his ear-

“Give me your phone and money, bitch.”

Kurt screams in fright, and a hand reaches around to clamp over his mouth. Passer-bys quickly glance his way, but no one comes to his aid. Parents simply hustle their children forward and away from the pair. Kurt opens his mouth in an attempt to bite his attacker, but is stopped by a lick to his neck that sends shivers down his back. He moans unconsciously and leans into the larger form of his would-be attacker. Getting a hold of himself, he attempts to pull away from the vice like grip around his waist, but the bulky arms don’t even budge an inch. Instead, he’s dragged up against the other male until his ass is firmly pressed against what seems to be a growing erection. Kurt whimpers, and stares out at the people streaming pass, eyes pleading for help. No one takes notice; to them the pair simply looks like two lovers locked in an embrace.

Taking pity on his victim, the attacker grips the brunette’s hips lightly instead, and presses a kiss to the beauty spot nestled at the base of Kurt’s nape. “Babe relax, it’s me.”

The now released would-be victim, whirls around, heart beating a mile a mile, and faces his rather devious lover. “Puck? What the fuck? You scared me half to death you asshole!” Each sentence is accompanied by a punch to the tanned male’s well defined six pack.

Puck doubles up in pain. His lover might look like a harmless angelic stereotypical gay man, but he sure didn’t fight like one. He fights like a pro, a kick-boxing pro. Those lessons he took in his younger days has made him a force to be reckoned with.

“Ouch, babe. Take it easy. I think you broke something.” The hunched over male complains and pouts at his fuming lover.

“Hmph. You deserved it. I thought you were going to kill me or something.” The porcelain skin male has a hand pressed over his still racing heart, he’s shaking and his eyes are filled to the brim with unshed tears.

“Aw, babe. Come here. The big bad Puckasaurus is sorry. There, there.” Puck pulls the couple centimetres shorter male to his chest and embraces him tightly. Kurt beats him off lightly, but gives in when Puck kisses his forehead and rubs a hand gently down Kurt’s back.

**Present time**

“Ha-ha. Dude, that is fucking hilarious. I need to try that sometime. It’d make great foreplay.”

“Santana.”

“What? Ok, fine. Carry on. Aunty Tana is all ears.”

**Flashback**

"Forgive me?" Puck whispers against Kurt's forehead.

Kurt hums under his breath at the pleasant sensations and nods his head. "Just don't do it again. Or I'll hurt you. Badly."

Puck gulps. That's no empty threat. "Sure thing, babe. The Puckster will be on his best behaviour from now on. I promise."

"How'd you find me anyway?"

"Went to pick you up, but Dave said you'd already left. Figured you'd walk. Ya know, there's no point in having a dude in a suit with rippling muscles if you always leave him behind."

"I thought he could do with a night off. And I don't need him to follow me 24hrs a day. I'm more than capable of looking after myself." Kurt looks up at Puck through thick eyelashes, daring him to contradict him.

"Course you are, babe. Let’s head home, yeah? Beth's probably missing her two daddies already." Puck releases Kurt and wraps an arm around his waist, anchoring him to his side. Kurt returns the gesture by stuffing a hand into one of Puck's back pockets, not so subtly groping the other man's ass.

**Present time**

"Kurtina, this is all nice, rosy and sickeningly sweet, but could you hurry the fuck up? I'm missing some serious one on one time with my lady here."

"I thought you wanted to hear everything?" He raises one eyebrow in question. The woman responds by flipping him the bird.

"You can skip all the walking into the sunset crap. Just head right on ahead to the juicy stuff. Like what the fuck did you do to Puck's hair?"

"It wasn't my fault. I didn't start it."

"Start what? The sex? Dude, I am seriously not interested in listening to a story about you and Narcissus bumping uglies. Yo Sugar! Babe you mind closing up shop for me?" Santana turns way from the bar to call the other brunette bartender over.

"No probs, Boss. You heading out to take Brit on a hot date?" Sugar waves at Kurt, before handing him a napkin and a pen. It’s one of their ongoing rituals. Every day he visits the restaurant bar, he hands over an autograph, which she sells, and every weekend they gather up the extra cash to splash out in expensive boutiques.

The owner of the bar and restaurant giggles, "No, I'm taking Bambi here back home. Come on sweet cheeks. And I mean the ones below the belt. Let's get you home before Puck sends out a search party.” Santana lifts Kurt to his feet and begins leading him out of the restaurant.

Kurt attempts to pull away, but deadly nails circle his arm in warning.

“You can finish your story on the way. Just skip the fluffy bit, okay? I like my dinner where it is.”

“Okay.” Kurt resigns himself to his fate. He just hopes that by the time they make it to his apartment, Santana will have come up with a plan to help him calm Puck’s anger.

“We fought,” Kurt mumbles under his breath.

“Get out of town. You’re joking.” Santana is honestly shocked.

Puck and Kurt never fought. Like ever. Despite being polar opposites, the two were perfect together. When had they first got together, everyone in their circle of friends never for a second believed the two could last longer than a month. Kurt was a high maintenance world famous actor and model, who took pride in having everything in his life be absolutely perfect. He was used to getting his own way and having people bow to his needs.

Puck was a laid back, lead singer of an up-and-coming band called, Bogymen. He was honest, hardworking and a total goof off, the man had never been serious a day in his life, despite having become a father at the tender age of seventeen. The two couldn’t be more different from each other, yet together, they couldn’t be more right.

“Unfortunately we did. I wasn’t the one to start it. It was all him.

**Flashback**

After Puck’s little prank, the two had walked hand in hand all the way home. They had been welcomed home by their cheerful daughter, and had curled up together an hour later, to watch Miracle on 34th Street (for the fifth time that week). Everything had been peaceful and lovely. Until Beth, in her innocence, asked the wrong question at the worst possible moment.

“So, what’s happening for Christmas, then? We just staying here, the three of us?”

So far no one had mentioned anything about Christmas or where they were going to be. Kurt hadn’t finished work for the year, and was still attending publicity events every week for the promotion of his latest film. Puck and band mates were locked in their studio every day for hours on end, ironing out the final touches to their newest album. Both had been too busy to discuss Christmas plans, and so far they had done nothing to prepare for the festive season.

“Three? You’re being shipped off to Quinn’s, kid.” Puck pokes his daughter in the side, and she smacks him over the head, dislodging his head from her lap.

“What? Why?” Beth doesn’t want to spend Christmas with her mother. She absolutely doesn’t want to. She‘s really surprised her mother even requested to spend time with her. Beth and her mother have never been that close. It wasn’t deliberate, and she knew her mother loved her to bits; it was just that her mother never had time to spend with her. The Hollywood starlet was constantly flying around the world to exotic locations to star in new films, and rarely resided in her New York home.

“Because she wants to spend Christmas with you, and she can’t do that if you’re in Virginia with us.” Kurt is the first to respond, from his spot at the far side of the couch.

“Virginia? What’s going on in Virginia?” Puck lifts his feet off Kurt’s lap, and sits up to look at the brunette in bewilderment.

“We’re spending Christmas with my family in Virginia. I thought that’s what we agreed on last week. Don’t you remember?”

“Dude, I remember nothing like that. We never even talked about where we were gonna be spending Christmas.”

“Yes, we did. Last Thursday.”

“Last Thursday?” Puck has no recollection of such a conversation ever taking place. All he remembers of last Thursday is coming home to a quiet house with no Beth, who had left to spend the night at a friend’s house, only to find a naked Kurt in their bed, holding a Happy Hanukkah card.

Noticing his lover’s blushing cheeks, Puck can tell he’s not the only one reminiscing about last Thursday. Puck wonders if during the thorough enjoyment of his first gift, Kurt had asked about Christmas and Puck had agreed to his plans. It wouldn’t be the first time. Kurt was forever always trying to make requests of Puck during their sexy times, be it a request for Puck to go faster, dye his hair blond, buy Kurt a pony, find Taylor Lautner’s address, or for Puck to take it up the ass during their third round. And Puck, always the one more lost in the moment, always agreed to every single one. Except any requests involving Taylor Lautner. There was no way Puck would ever attempt to get the two to meet. He could do without competing with a teenage heartthrob, who he grudgingly admitted, looked slightly more muscular and manly than he did without his shirt on, thanks.

“Whatever I agreed to, I didn’t mean it. Babe, I’m heading home to Lima to spend Hanukkah, what’s left of it anyway, with my folks. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“What? But, I’ve already booked your ticket! And my family are expecting me to turn up with you in tow. You never said anything about Lima. I thought your parents were Christian. Why are you leaving us to spend Hanukkah with them?”

“They are, but they’ve always tried to do Jewish things so Sarah and me don’t miss out. You know, on the Jewish upbringing we would have had, had Ma...” Puck trails off, unable to speak of his mother’s death. Twenty years have already passed, twenty years since the day she had been killed on her way home by a drunk teenaged driver. Puck has never been able to come to terms with her loss, even after having been adopted with his little sister Sarah, by one Will and Emma Shuester.

Sensing his lover’s sadness, Kurt rubs a hand in a circle on Puck’s broad back. Puck, however, mind back on their discussion, pulls away. Kurt’s face moulds into an emotionless mask, easily masking his hurt feelings.

“Point is, I’m not leaving my sister on her own. I’ve never missed a Hanukkah with the little munchkin and I’m not going to start now.”

“So you’re saying spending Christmas with your sister takes priority? You don’t want to spend Christmas with me? You haven’t even thought of spending Christmas, our first Christmas, together have you?” Kurt’s voice has increased in pitch and it’s pretty evident that he’s close to tears. He feels completely rejected by Puck.

Puck swallows nervously. This conversation isn’t going the way he would like it to. He never intended to cause his lover pain. “Kurt I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. What I meant was that I thought you were going to come along to Lima with me. Babe, I’m not putting my family over you. You’re my family too.”

Puck leans over to give the other man a hug, but before he can even get his arms around him, Kurt is firmly on his feet and good distance away.

“Puck, don’t lie to me. Your family obviously means more to you than I do. I’m not going to stop you, I can’t. Spend Christmas with your family. Don’t worry needlessly about me. I’m absolutely delighted I’ll be spending Christmas without such a capricious man.” Kurt sounds sarcastic as hell, but the tears cascading down his cheeks reveal his true emotions.

Puck winces at the use of his stage name, a name Kurt only ever uses when he’s positively pissed at Puck. But he doesn’t make a move to comfort his crying lover. He’s at a loss of what to do and doesn’t want to make things worse than they already are.

Beth – who both men forgot about during their heated talk – punches Puck in the arm to show she’s unhappy with his behaviour, before rising to her feet. She wraps an arm around Kurt’s shoulder, and begins leading him away from Puck, straight through to her room. Kurt simply clutches onto to her and follows mutely.

Puck makes no move to go after the two.

That night the couple slept, for the first time in months, in different rooms, in different beds. Puck didn’t catch a wink of sleep, and spent the whole night obsessing about how he was going to patch things up with Kurt. Kurt didn’t sleep at all either, but not once did he think of tiding things over with the other man. Kurt’s hurt feelings had given way to anger. He felt so angry at Puck. If Puck had just let him know earlier that he had no intention of spending the holiday with Kurt, then Kurt could have prepared for the heartache and he would have been able to rein in his emotions.

These turbulent feelings were what led him, at three a.m. the next morning to the en-suite bathroom in the room he shared with Puck, with a box of his daughter’s hair dye in his hands. He didn’t really know what he was doing, he just knew Puck would be leaving later that day, and he didn’t want the other man leaving without some reminder of the hurt lover he was leaving behind.

**Present time**

“Oh, God. That is so frickin’ sad. Geez Kurtina, you really know how to make a bitch cry don’t you?” Santana takes the expensive looking handkerchief the man offers to her and glares viciously at him, daring him to say something about her tears.

Kurt wisely looks the other way while the Latina woman dries her tears.

“Your fight was stupid though. Like even more stupid than that footballer brother of yours.”

This time Kurt glares at her, his step-brother might be slightly slow sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. Santana had only ever met the other male once. It was at Rachel, their mutual friend and Kurt’s co-star, and Finn’s wedding. Which they had been kind enough to invite her too even though they all knew she’d misbehave (and misbehave she did, if you could call giving the groom a forced lap dance whilst drunkenly singing Bieber, misbehaving). Since then Santana has never had a nice word to say about Finn. But then again Santana never has anything nice to say about anyone who isn’t her childhood sweetheart, and the dancing instructor, Kurt’s director Artie had hired: Brittany.

“Hey you know it’s true. You fools could have just arranged for Puck’s folks to meet you all in Virginia. Your parents have some big swanky house right? Your old man’s a politician so you should.” When Kurt reluctantly nods, she continues, “Same with Beth. Get Quinn to fly her, admittedly very attractive, butt over. Your mom is flying over from England, right? Quinn shouldn’t have a problem flying over from wherever the hell they sent her to this week. Problems sorted.”

Kurt hadn’t thought of any of that. Now he does, he has to admit it’s the perfect solution. Puck and Kurt could spend Christmas together, without being away from their individual families. Kurt could finally meet the Shuester’s and Puck’s little sister, and Puck would be able to meet all three of Kurt’s parents, without having to leave the country. Now all Kurt has to do is apologise profusely to Puck about destroying his precious hair, and convince him to go along with Santana’s suggestions. He shouldn’t have a problem accepting, seeing as to how this way everyone would be happy.

Kurt impulsively hugs Santana, and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek…the one’s located on her face. “Thank you, so much. Santana you’re a genius. I love you.”

“Ladyface, whilst me appreciates the compliments about my brilliance, kiss or hug me again and I’ll make you a woman for Christmas. And maybe find Puck a younger model since that boy can’t live without sexy times,” she responds, thoughtfully.

Kurt wisely releases her, and she pats him on the cheek, before shoving him towards his apartment door.

“Merry Christmas, baby cakes. Stop in by us when you get back. Brit’s bought like a million presents for your little fam. Hope you like Lucky Charms and Disney.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow in amusement and waves back, when she turns back to say goodbye before disappearing into the elevator. When the elevator door closes and she’s gone, Kurt turns his key in the lock and quietly enters the apartment he shares with the two most important people in his world.

Seeing neither Puck nor Beth, he heads straight to their room, fearing the worse. However, much to his relief, Kurt finds Puck curled up on Kurt’s side of the bed, clutching one of Kurt’s pillows in his arms. He hadn’t left, just like Santana had assumed he wouldn’t.

Kurt gives a sigh of relief, a sound barely above a whisper, which catches Puck’s attention. Puck turns over to face Kurt. His face reflects what Kurt is feeling at that moment. Relief, regret and happiness.

Kurt approaches the bed hesitantly. He has no idea if Puck is still angry about his new colour, and is partly scared about how Puck will react to seeing him after so much has happened between them. It’s hard to imagine that only a day has passed since their fight. Their first ever genuine fight.

Completely surprising Kurt, Puck stumbles from the bed, and reaches out towards Kurt. Kurt meets him halfway. They embrace, and before long their lips are locked together and they’re both falling towards the conveniently placed bed.

**Present time**

Three hours later

“Satan really does care doesn’t she? She puts up this ‘I’m a heartless bitch who couldn’t give a fuck about you’ front, but deep down…She actually cares.” Puck sounds as if he has a hard time believing what he’s saying, and Kurt giggles softly. You’d think after having grown up together, Puck would have known Santana inside out. Apparently, the Latina woman had many layers that even Puck wasn’t aware of.

“We should get her something extra special to thank her. Something sparkly,” Kurt whispers, and runs a hand down’s Puck’s naked chest. In his mind he’s already planning trips to Tiffany’s and the like. Maybe Mercedes, his childhood best friend, and the lovely Sugar could accompany him.

Knowing where Kurt’s thoughts are heading, Puck pulls lightly at Kurt’s hair, and the other man raises his head from Puck’s chest to look at him.

“You just want an excuse to go shopping and use my credit cards for a change.”

“Lover boy, you know me so well. And I’ll take that as a, ‘Yes, you can take my fabulous Louis Vuitton wallet along with you’”.

Before Puck can protest, Kurt presses a kiss to his lips. Puck pulls away and places a tanned finger under Kurt’s chin, tilting his face up.

“Alright, but for every dime you spend I expect a little something in return.”

“What, you mean in addition to your Hanukkah presents, you want more?” Kurt glares at Puck, he’s already spent quite a small fortune, anymore and he won’t be able to afford that new Marc Jacobs winter collection that just came out.

“Don’t worry, babe. You won’t need to pay for what I want. It’s something you can give to me without using your precious plastic.” Puck smiles suggestively at Kurt and wags his eyebrows exaggeratedly.

Getting the not so subtle hint, Kurt frowns at Puck, “I’m not a machine you know. I need rest sometimes too.”

Kurt pulls away, picks up his discarded chinos from the foot of their bed, and fishes out his phone.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

“Texting Satan. She said something earlier about sex dolls looking like my brothers.”

Puck snickers, “Those must be some fugly sex dolls. Who the hell would actually pay for a sex doll that looks like Finn?”

Kurt nudges Puck with his feet, “That is so not what I meant, and thank you for the lovely images now plaguing my poor mind.”

“Aw babe, come here. Let Puckasaurus, give you something better to think about.” Puck leans forwards pulls Kurt back up to join him.

“Ouch, don’t pull so hard. I’m not made of plastic.” Kurt goes willingly, but continues texting Santana. Puck vaguely wonders what he’s actually texting her. It could be about sex dolls, or it could a hundred thank yous sent individually.

“Babe, stop for a minute. I want to give you something.” Puck pouts, and pinches at Kurt’s hands.

Intrigued, Kurt throws his phone to the side and gives Puck his undivided attention.

Puck chuckles and reaches behind himself to pull open their bedside table drawer. He takes out a small and plain black box and before he can even hand it over to Kurt, the other man throws himself at him, arms and legs clinging tightly to Puck.

“I accept! I do. I do. Oh Gaga, I do!”

“Babe, you’re ruining the moment.”

 

**THE END**


End file.
